A Different Vision Of Hope
by Space Opera Singer
Summary: "What was the last vision you had?" "I saw this bratty kid that constantly caused me trouble." In which Kanan has a vision of Ezra before meeting him, misinterprets it, and thinks that the boy is his unborn son.
1. Chapter 1

(Set shortly after A New Dawn, when it's just Hera, Kanan, and Chopper on the Ghost. So about five years before the Star Wars Rebels show starts.)

* * *

" _Visions are . . . difficult. Almost impossible to interpret."_

" _What was the last vision you had?"_

" _I saw this bratty kid that constantly caused me trouble."_

* * *

A searing pain tore at Kanan's focus. It hurt so much. He couldn't concentrate, could barely breathe. A blaster bolt to the chest would do that.

If it had damaged his lungs . . . well he didn't want to think about the consequences of that. Because if that had happened, well, he wouldn't have to think about those consequences. Or rather, he wouldn't be around long enough to.

"Kanan. Hold on. We're almost there." Dear, beautiful Hera. She'd been the one to pluck him out of the fire fight on a hijacked hoverbus, get him back to the Ghost, and nearly to his bunk since they didn't have a medbay.

"It hurts," Kanan rasped.

"I know. But you're going to be alright. Just hold on."

A promise she couldn't keep and they both knew it. How much damage the blaster bolt had done they wouldn't know until they got his shirt off. And normally Kanan would be making wisecracks about her finally giving in and tearing his clothes off, or how he knew she'd just been dying to get in his bunk.

It was no secret he had a thing for her. But he'd started toning down how strongly he'd been coming on to her lately because it was clear she didn't reciprocate and because it made him feel like a lecher. But nevertheless, this was a stressful enough a situation to merit a relapse to his old ways, if only he could start spouting out pickup lines without feeling like his lungs were on fire.

A thrum of bitterness buzzed through Kanan's veins. Part of the reason he'd been hanging out with Hera so long was in hope that she'd come around to his charms. The other parts were that he was in love with her ship, that she was a good friend even if she wasn't interested in him, and that when he was working with her, he felt more alive than he'd been doing deadbeat jobs and hiding from the Empire like he'd been doing ever since the Jedi Order fell.

Right now none of those reasons seemed like a good enough excuse for him putting himself through this abuse. When exactly had he signed on to fight the Empire? Oh that's right, he hadn't.

"Finished."

"What? Kanan?"

"After this. Finished. Next rock. I'm off."

He didn't think that he could hurt worse than he was now. The look on Hera's face proved him wrong.

"Alright. If that's what you want. But let's get you taken care of first," said Hera. She hit the door to his cabin and it slid open to admit them.

Kanan collapsed onto his bed as soon they reached it, his arm slipping off from around Hera's shoulders like an Adegan eel, it was so slick with his own sweat. At least he hoped that was only sweat and not blood. His vision was blurry. Dark. He was close to losing consciousness. He could tell.

Hera was still talking to him. He knew that but he couldn't hear her words. Just her voice. Everything was so dark.

And then it wasn't.

 _"Dad! What are you doing?"_ asked a laughter filled voice.

Dark blue hair. Heavenly blue eyes. Tan skin. A mischief filled smile.

Kanan stared in wonder at the small teenage boy hurrying toward him, one thought filling his mind above all others. Did that boy just call him . . .

 _"Dad?"_ Now those azure eyes were filled with exhaustion and a little confusion, but they were definitely looking up at Kanan. They were somewhere else. Not the dark street they'd just been on, with fireworks crackling above them. The boy was lying in a bed that Kanan was seated at the edge of, reaching down, touching the boy's, his son's, head in a comforting motion, and there was this feeling in his chest like nothing he'd ever felt before.

Image after image flashed through Kanan's mind, all of them containing this boy, his son. They stood together on a rural planet, in front of a seemingly endless grassland. They flew together, in the cockpit of some small craft, as the stars turned into lines as they jumped into hyperspace. His son sat on the ground, grinning, a tooka circling him, rubbing its head all over the teen affectionately.

That feeling in Kanan's chest just grew and grew until he felt like he was going to burst, as he stared at his son, heard his voice, saw the complete trust and adoration in his eyes, like he thought his dad was a hero.

"Kanan? Kanan can you hear me?"

He was back in his bunk. No, he'd never left it. What he'd just seen . . . a vision.

"Hera."

"Shh. Just rest."

"I –"

"You're going to be okay. That bolt took a chunk out of your side, but it missed anything vital. Two weeks and you'll be good as new. If you still want off my ship then –"

"Hera, I'm going to have a son."

That startled Hera. "You – you're _what?"_

"I saw him," Kanan said. "I had a vision."

"Kanan. Are you sure that wasn't –"

"It wasn't a hallucination. It was sent by the Force," Kanan insisted.

He saw interest sharpen Hera's expression as he openly spoke of the dewback in the room. She had known he was Force sensitive since that incident on Cynda. He knew she hypothesized he'd had Jedi training, but it wasn't something they'd ever spoken of. He didn't volunteer information, and she hadn't insisted on him revealing it. If she had, Kanan probably would have taken off long ago.

That was a part of his past that was too dangerous to bring up and too painful to reminisce on. For his own safety, he'd done his best to forget everything the Jedi had taught him.

Now, for the sake of his unborn, still unconceived son, he had to remember.

"It's a Jedi thing. Sometimes the Force shows us something we need to know. And just now, it showed me that sometime in the future I'm going to have a son."

"Oh. Okay." Hera didn't look as certain as she was pretending to sound.

Kanan didn't care.

That feeling was still in his chest. And he couldn't help but wonder, was this feeling love?

That was something that the Jedi Order didn't teach. He'd never known his real parents. He'd had friends, and his master, and he had felt attachment despite the order's advisements not to. What he felt now was similar to what he'd felt for them. Except warmer. Stronger. More pure.

"I already can tell he's going to be a handful, but every grey hair he gives me will be worth it. He's got – is going to have dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a honking big nose. He's perfect in every way," Kanan said proudly.

"I . . . I see," said Hera, still sounding neutral.

Either she didn't fully believe Kanan, which was understandable, he granted, since he'd been near delirious with pain, or there was something else. That couldn't be disappointment in her expression, could it? Why would she be disappointed he was going to have a son . . . unless . . . no, that wasn't likely. Even if that look had entered her expression when he'd mentioned what color his boy's hair was going to be.

There was no way Hera was upset because him having a child with a human woman meant that they weren't going to have a future together.

Maybe she was glad because she was finally getting let off the hook. Kanan planned on keeping an eye out for blue haired human women from now on, because there was no way his son got that hair color from him. The attraction he felt for Hera would pass. Especially now that he had much more important things than romance on his mind.

"I'm withdrawing my resignation."

Hera said nothing but the look she gave him was both interested and curious.

"As long as you're still finding jobs to cause problems for the empire, I'll be sticking around. At least for the time being," Kanan said.

A new feeling of purpose was branding itself on his consciousness. A sense of urgency about making a difference.

"I need to make sure the galaxy's a safer place for my son."

* * *

So, uh, yeah. I was rewatching the Vision of Hope episode and my attention was caught by Kanan's line at the end, that his last vision had been of Ezra, presumably before they'd met. Which got me thinking.

Kanan's first glimpse of Ezra in the vision I wrote was on Empire Day at the parade, when Ezra pretended Kanan was his over-patriotic dad to get him off the hook with that stormtrooper.

That other glimpse where a sleepy (injured?) Ezra called him Dad was one I made up, but is something I could see happening since Ezra definitely sees Kanan as a father figure, and in a hazy moment might "mistakenly" call him that.

Though Disney would have to answer for the hundreds of fangirl hearts that would spontaneously combust if that happened, mine included.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The change that came over Kanan after his so-called vision was staggering. Worrying even, to Hera. He seemed to have become a completely different person overnight.

The changes in and of themselves weren't bad ones, either looked at individually, or as a whole. In fact, Kanan had pretty much just transformed into the ideal ally Hera had always wanted. He'd always been dependable, but suddenly he was braver, and more serious. And enthusiastic, which he'd never been before.

And sober. Alcohol had been his only major vice in the time Hera had known him. She'd suspected that before he'd joined up with her philandering had been another vice, but he seemed to have left that one behind after coming onboard the Ghost.

But now Kanan's eyes had stopped lingering overlong on Hera. Which, she would admit left her feeling a little put out, after being admired by him for so long. And though he hadn't forgone alcohol completely, she hadn't seen him drunk again since having that vision. Kanan had started living more like one of the monks of old religions.

Or like a Jedi.

And all because of a vision.

Hera couldn't pretend she wasn't worried. That vision was just as likely, if not more likely, to have been a hallucination caused by pain and meds. But Kanan was convinced that he'd seen into the future and that it had shown him his son.

He didn't talk about it much, thankfully. Hera didn't want to have more conversations like the one they'd had while Kanan had been doped up on pain meds. That look in his eyes when he'd talked about his future child had tugged at Hera's heartstrings, as much because she knew how unlikely his vision was to be a real vision as because Kanan just looked so . . .

Well, there wasn't even a word to describe how he looked. But the adoration had been so clear in his expression.

If Kanan ever did have any children, Hera had no doubt that they would be well cared for.

It was that devotion for his unborn child that had him now dedicated to Hera's cause, and Hera couldn't help but feeling rotten for taking advantage of it, because what if that vision had been nothing more than a hallucination?

To appease her own conscience, she did try to get Kanan to look at things logistically. But he would not be swayed.

"I know what I saw, Hera," he said, giving her a tolerant smile. "I know what I heard."

"Love, please just think about it." Hera realized a little too late what she'd just called him.

Kanan didn't seem to notice. "I have thought about it. About him. He's all I think about."

"Kanan, you were in a lot of pain and the medicines I gave you have been known to cause mild hallucinations."

Kanan was silent for a moment as though weighing her words. Then he shook his head. "I can see where you're coming from. I can see why you would think that. But visions are different than hallucinations. I have to trust in the Force."

"And are visions always 100 percent accurate?" asked Hera.

"No," admitted Kanan. "And they're often misinterpreted –"

"Then how do you know that's not what you're doing now?"

"Because I _heard_ him, Hera. I didn't just see him," said Kanan. "He called me 'Dad.' There's not exactly much room for misinterpretation there. And the way he looked at me. No one's ever looked at me like that, Hera."

"Like what?"

"Like I was his hero. Like . . ." Kanan looked suddenly nervous, "Like he loved me."

Hera's heart gave a painful pang.

"And Hera . . . I think I love him," Kanan said softly, almost whispering it.

Disbelief thrummed through Hera. "You _think_ you love your son?" she asked incredulously.

She wasn't naïve. She knew even though that was something that should have gone without saying, there were far too many cases where fathers didn't love their sons. But that wasn't what made her incredulous now. It was the context of this all. How Kanan was saying it. Almost like –

"I think so. I'm not positive because, well, I've never loved anyone before," Kanan said, not making eye contact with Hera. "Or had anyone love me before."

"Kanan . . ."

"It's not the Jedi way. Attachments are forbidden. We don't exactly have families. I don't remember my birth parents. And I never expected to _be_ a parent. But the moment I saw my son, I started to get this feeling in my chest." Kanan touched his chest, seemingly unconsciously. "Like it's burning, except it doesn't hurt at all. I don't know how else to describe it. But I think it's because I love him."

Hera found herself blinking away tears, trying hard to hide them. She only succeeded because Kanan was so distracted by thoughts of his unborn son.

She could see how badly he wanted this to be real. And she could tell that yes, he did love his son, or would love him, if he was ever born. She really, really hoped for his sake that his vision would come true.

But because she was his friend, she also had to try to keep him grounded in case it didn't. Even though it wasn't in her cause's best interests. She had to look out for Kanan's best interests too.

"But what if your vision isn't right, Kanan? What if it coming true depended on you giving up the fight that day you said you were leaving the Ghost? Or what if it ends up not coming true for some other reason? Like you _dying_ fighting the Empire?"

Kanan looked sick at the thought, but squared his shoulders.

"Well, the only thing worse than that, I guess, would be if I did nothing to stop the Empire, and my vision _did_ come true," he said. "How could I face my son if I sat by and did nothing when there was something I could have been doing to make this galaxy better for him?"

Kanan won that round. Hera would give him that. Her own reasons for fighting weren't so different. Someday, she hoped to have children, but she wanted them to live in a galaxy that was at peace, and not oppressed by a tyrannical empire.

Of course that day was still far away. She still had an empire to topple. And the right partner to find to have children with.

A little bit of regret thrummed through her with the realization that Kanan couldn't be that partner. Ironically, the same thing that had caused him to morph into near-perfect husband material was the exact same reason why he wouldn't be an option to Hera.

His son was going to be a dark haired, blue eyed human.

And it was only now, after having that path shut to her, that Hera felt regret about what could never be.

* * *

Poor Hera. She still has years to go to find out the truth. However you only have one, maybe two more chapters to go.

Up next: Kanan has another vision and realizes that his son is Force Sensitive. Proudest day of his life to date.

Anyone else think Vader should take lessons from Kanan on how to be a dad? IMHO this is a case where the apprentice truly is the master.


	3. Chapter 3

There were only so many close calls or narrow escapes someone could have before their number was up. And right then, to Kanan, it seemed like his number was up. His and Hera's.

They'd been in sticky situations before, but this one definitely took the cake.

Right now they were pinned down in an abandoned azurite mine, where they were supposed to be picking up some intel on a holodisk, that one of Fulcrum's (whoever Fulcrum was) contacts had left hidden for them there. And unfortunately, they now realized that the Empire had the mine under surveillance.

At least two dozen stormtroopers were waiting in ambush for them when they tried to make their way back from the mine's depths. And after the hike they'd taken through the crumbling subterranean tunnels, and the hour they'd spent overturning rocks, crawling around in the dark, looking for the damn holodisk, Kanan and Hera were already exhausted. The firefight had been short, with Kanan and Hera taking down a couple bucketheads each before retreating back into the dark below.

Half the remaining troopers chased after them. Kanan and Hera had killed their flashlights then picked off a couple more before the stormtroopers got smart and shut off their own lights. Then everyone was shooting in the dark, and no one had the advantage. Well, no one except Force sensitive Kanan.

And that was when it became apparent to Kanan that he was dreadfully out of practice.

There had been a time when he could have navigated an obstacle course, wearing a blind helmet, with practice droids firing at him constantly, with pinpoint precision. Now he struggled just to stay alive. All the Jedi who'd ever had a hand in training him would have been shaking their heads. If they weren't dead, at least. Kanan had blocked off his connection to the Force as much as he could over the years to stay alive. It had shone through now and then in crucial moments to save his life, but he could no longer control his connection to it like he once could.

Trying to grasp it now was exhausting, mentally. But Kanan gave it all he had. He was able to pick off several stormtroopers by using the Force to sense where they were. But after each shot he had to move and move quickly, to avoid the barrage of blaster bolts fired at the position he'd fired from.

Hera was smart and a great shot, so she was able to take some of the bucketheads out when they fired at Kanan's position. She'd fire off two quick shots then bolt so they couldn't pin down her position. All in all, she and Kanan were doing a great job of evening the odds. That is until disaster struck.

The mine was ancient and unstable. It wasn't safe anymore for mining or anything else, let alone deadly games of laser tag, like the one Kanan and Hera were playing with the stormtroopers. So it shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone when disaster struck.

A loud cracking was the first warning they had, followed by the sound of dust and small rocks raining down.

"Oh no," Hera breathed, breaking the silence that she and Kanan had been mutually keeping by unspoken agreement, so as not to give away their positions. "Cave in!"

At that moment, Kanan knew that their number was up. The ceiling was coming down on them. The entire tunnel was probably going to collapse. Chances of survival were almost nonexistent.

Regret thrummed through him. There was so much he'd left undone. After all this, he'd barely made a difference at all. The Empire was no weaker for all his work against it. He'd barely been more than an annoyance to them. Now his son would be born into a universe still run by corruption and -

No. His son would never be born at all now. The thought hurt like physical pain. But it was quickly replaced by defiance.

"Screw this! I've got a reason to live!"

Kanan's instincts went into overdrive and he surged forward, grabbing Hera and then pulling her along behind him. He heard her give a startled cry, just as the stormtroopers started to cry out and scream as well as they realized what was happening. Kanan ignored it all and just moved. He couldn't say where he was going or what was around him and Hera. For just a few moments he let the Force guide him fully, trusting it with both his and Hera's lives, feeling more strongly in sync with it than he had since the day Order 66 went down, taking the Jedi Order and his whole world with it.

And as he moved, blocking out the dark world around him, and trusting in the Force, Kanan saw things. Mainly he saw _him_.

His son, on the Ghost. Chasing after Chopper, angrily waving a wrench and shouting out threats. Like father, like son, Kanan would think later, when he remembered that image. But at the time he saw it, he wasn't thinking of anything. His mind was blank, which was why he was able to see it. The Force surged through him, showing him that image and others.

Like his son, holding a light saber. It was an oddly constructed one, like it had been made out of a bunch of random parts.

And his son practicing lifting objects with the Force. A jogan, a cup, a can of spray paint. He raised them all at once so they hung suspended in the air, right in front of his face. Then he broke his concentration to turn and grin with great satisfaction at Kanan, looking very proud. Right until he realized that by doing that, he'd lost control of the items he'd been levitating and they all dropped to the ground.

"The stone, the temple, it wants to admit me. No, wait. Not me . . . us. Master and Padawan, together!" His son's face lit up as he looked toward Kanan.

And Kanan heard himself speak in the vision. "Then together it shall be."

For the record, it was not a lapse in concentration that caused Kanan to take a dive toward the floor. It was what the Force guided him to do. The only way to stay alive in the midst of all the falling rubble. He rolled so that Hero was underneath him and yowled in pain when a chunk of debris crashed into his shoulder. Something landed right above them, but didn't crash down on him. Only dust and pebble sized pieces of rubble struck him after that, though all around them, and even above them, they could hear bigger, more dangerous things still crashing.

Beneath him, Hera was breathing heavily. She was scared. Who wouldn't be in that situation? Being buried alive, with the knowledge that at any moment the ceiling would crash down on them, ending everything? Kanan could only be calm because he knew. This was where they needed to be to survive. The one small pocket of air where they wouldn't be crushed. They were buried, yes. He could feel a heavy slab of stone right above his back. It had landed on an angle, over some other rubble, so that it formed a small shelter, and kept them alive. None of the stormtroopers were so lucky.

They waited there, holding their breath. A minute later it was over, and they were the only ones left alive in the mines. For a few minutes more, they waited in silence, waiting to make sure that the rubble was settled and there wouldn't be any aftershocks. Finally, Hera spoke.

"Kanan? Are you alright?" She spoke in only a whisper.

"Yes," Kanan croaked back softly. His voice was hoarse from all the dust he'd breathed in. "We're both alright."

"Are we trapped?"

Normal people would be. Kanan could see in his mind how the rubble was piled over them. Normal people would have to wait until someone with heavy digging equipment came to dig them out. But Kanan wasn't a normal person.

"No. I can get us out of here. Just . . . we need to wait a few minutes. It's not safe yet. I think there might be . . . an aftershock."

"You mean a secondary cave in," said Hera.

"What?"

"This wasn't caused by an earthquake. Aftershocks are from earthquakes."

"Does it matter?" Kanan asked.

"No, I suppose not. But it never hurts to use the terms correctly." Hera's voice was a little hoarse too, and she was deliberately speaking softly. Underneath him, Kanan felt her shift nervously.

That was when he realized just how close the two of them were.

He'd fallen so that his body covered hers completely. That had been to try to protect her. He'd known that their lives wouldn't be in danger, but in mayhem like this, he couldn't expect the Force to warn him about every sharp rock that might fall down on top of them and leave bruises and cuts.

Now it was awkward. He'd never been this close to a woman who he wasn't intimate with, and Hera had made it very clear from very early on that she wasn't that type of girl. Kanan had respected her for that. For awhile he'd hoped that she'd eventually come around, but then he'd found out he was going to be a father, and had started keeping an eye out for blue haired girls. He gave up on whatever sparks had been between him and Hera.

But that didn't stop Hera from being extremely attractive, or stop Kanan from noticing.

"Sorry about this," Kanan said ruefully. "I know I'm probably pretty heavy. I guess I should lay off the . . . uh . . . ration bars."

It was a weak attempt at self depreciation. Neither Kanan nor Hera were at weights that could be considered healthy for their species. These days the only people who had that privilege were Imperials and their sycophants. Kanan and Hera did well enough with their work that they weren't skin and bones, but neither could be considered overweight by any means.

"Yeah. You better," Hera teased, knowing full well what Kanan was doing. Any distraction was better than laying there, dwelling on how close their bodies were. "If you don't, I'm going to assign Chopper as your personal trainer."

"That would be hell."

"Exactly."

"Yeah." Kanan tried hard to think of some way to continue the conversation. But none came to mind. So he quickly switched the topic to the first one that came into his mind. "Hera, I saw my son again."

"What?"

"Yeah. While we were running through the cave in. I . . . let the Force guide me. I found the only safe place where we could survive this. But while I let it flow through me, it showed me things. My son. Hera, he's going to be Force sensitive."

"What? You mean . . . he'll be like you?"

"Yes," Kanan told her. "I saw what he could do. There's no mistaking it. The Force is going to be strong with him."

He could hear the smile in Hera's whisper. "You must be proud."

"Yes. Very. He's going to be my Padawa-"

A loud crashing cut Kanan off. That would be the secondary cave in, they'd been worried about. They both fell silent again until the sound of rocks falling gave in to the sound of dust and pebbles showering down. And when that too faded, then, Kanan spoke again.

"I think we're safe now. Hold on. I need to . . . move my hands. This is going to be a little awkward," Kanan said, glad that Hera couldn't see the expression or color of his face.

"It's alright, Kanan," Hera said. "Do what you have to do. I know you wouldn't . . . take advantage of our situation."

"Yeah. Have to set an example for my son."

"So he'll be a Jedi and a gentleman."

"Exactly."

As they'd spoke, Kanan had shifted as far upright as he could. He couldn't really get into a sitting position, which would have been better for what he was trying to do, but he did the best he could. Calling on the Force, he lifted the ceiling off them and slid it to the side, little by little. A minute later, Kanan was able to sit up. But not stand. Rubble filled the passageway creating a maze that they had to crawl through to get back to the exit. It was very slow going, even after they turned on their one surviving flashlight. It didn't make much difference.

Several times they reached what would have been dead ends to a normal person but Kanan was able to use the Force to lift the debris and clear the way for them. Then, finally, they were free.

Their speeders were still hidden where they'd stashed them, so Kanan and Hera made it back to where they'd left the Ghost without incident. Chopper greeted them with a few beeps that sounded like snickers, and a comment about how filthy they looked. Kanan, too tired to bicker, just responded with a hand gesture that was recognized as very rude on twelve systems. Then he quickly stopped before Hera could turn and see when Chopper squawked his indignation.

All the same, Hera gave Kanan a knowing look after translating Chopper's beeps. Kanan tried to look innocent, but knew he was failing, so instead he decided to make a fast retreat.

Later that night, once the Ghost was safely out in space and Kanan and Hera had both cleaned up, she found him in the cockpit, staring at the stars.

"Hey. You alright?" Hera asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," said Kanan. "Just thinking."

"About your son?"

Kanan looked at her, surprised. "How did you know?"

"You've got that look on your face. The one you always wear when you're talking about him," Hera said. She handed Kanan a mug of caf then sat down in her own chair. "So. Force sensitive, you say?"

* * *

My headcannon for this fic is that Kanan likes talking about his future son. Hera's kind of the only one he can talk about him to though (Chopper's not an option), and she actually enjoys it because Kanan is so obviously happy. Even though it breaks her heart a little each time, as she realizes, more and more, that Kanan was that guy she'd been looking for to settle down and start a family with when her battle with the Empire has finally been won.

But soon that's all going to change.


End file.
